‘There is the Princesse de Tarente, who presides at the centre of all gossip. I once had the great fortune of attending a dinner in her apartments at Versailles . . . before the current troubles, of course. She is certain to offer some intelligence. There is as well the Prince d’Aremberg who is an intimate associate of mine, a devotee of the turf . . . and the Marquis de Molleville, who once purchased a very fine white mare from my stables – I do believe he is privy to the whereabouts of most anyone.’ Savill smirked and raised an eyebrow. ‘Why, I would reckon that this unfortunate business will be concluded within no more than a week. In the meantime, my lady, I shall not permit you to pass your hours pining as if you were Penelope awaiting the return of your Odysseus. I insist that you accompany me tonight to the Théâtre Feydeau – that is, if your ears will tolerate a performance sung entirely in the French language?’

With some hesitation, I accepted Andrew Savill’s invitation that evening and on other occasions as well. He would not have me ‘sitting indoors all day now that the weather has grown so fine’, I must come with him ‘at once and take the air at the Jardins des Tuileries’. Naturally, having seen the delights of the Tuileries, ‘one must compare them to the beauties of the Jardins du Luxembourg’. I was coaxed here and there; whisked through the Bois de Boulogne in a cabriolet and taken to ‘glimpse the majesty of the Cathédrale de Notre-Dame’. I was in no position to refuse, for I had not a single legitimate excuse to make. There was no person upon whom I might call, no honest reason for absenting myself from his tiresome company.

In this manner a week had passed. Each morning, at an hour scarcely decent, the Irishman would appear in my dressing room as if he were attending my levee. ‘Mr Savill awaits you,’ Lucy had come to mutter as she parted my bed curtains.

‘Then permit him to, for as long as I deem fit,’ I had taken to answering. To be sure, I understood his game. I meant to prove to him that I was in no manner like the many French ladies of his acquaintance. I did not receive company whilst languishing in my bath, nor did I wish him to observe the intimacies of my toilette. I knew of many a respectable woman of that nation who thought nothing of entertaining gentleman callers in her chemise while dabbing her underarms with Hungary water.